


Kitchen Timer

by Saturn_the_Almighty



Series: He Looks Good In Red [5]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confessions, Cookies, Gen, He Looks Good In Red, Light Angst, Locus is stupid, M/M, Mild Language, Only because they're both idiots, post s15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 10:16:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13901913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturn_the_Almighty/pseuds/Saturn_the_Almighty
Summary: Sam is trying to deal with the awkward aftermath of his and Sarge's night swimming endeavor. Grif decides to make cookies to cheer him up.





	Kitchen Timer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sxpaiscia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxpaiscia/gifts).



Things had not gone as planned.

It had been two weeks since Sam and Sarge went night swimming. Two weeks since they almost kissed. Two weeks of stolen glances and painfully obvious avoidance. Two weeks of Sarge spending a _bit_  too much time in Donut's room. When one spends four straight hours holed up with Franklin Delano Donut, everyone else starts to worry.

Sam hadn't meant for things to go the way they were going. He, personally, had made a lot of progress. He labeled himself as a Red without a second thought nowadays. His wardrobe was slowly gaining a distinct color scheme (Red and green). He wasn't afraid to smile or laugh or get angry or quietly excuse himself to go make sure he wasn't about to cry.

He was a better person, but he fucked up and now his team leader wasn't acting like himself. It was unnerving to say the least and he had to do something about it because frankly, he didn't like how long Sarge had been in Donut's room.

That was the scariest part. He didn't like the idea of Sarge... Alone in a room... With _Donut_. It wasn't- wasn't right, but he didn't know _why_  it wasn't right because there was no reason for him to be on edge. It was not his business what Sarge did and if he wanted to, he could go and f-

"Sam?"

Sam's head snapped up from where we was glaring into the empty kitchen sink. He turned his head and studied Grif's frowning face. "Yes?" he replied, trying to keep his face neutral. "What did the sink ever do to you?" Grif joked, walking over to lean against the counter. "What's wrong?" he asked. Sam shrugged. "Nothing. I'm fine."

Grif leaned his head back and groaned spectacularly. "Really? You sound like a certain uptight ex-freelancer I know," he said. "How about instead of running from your problems like a _Blue_ , you tell me what happened, and I save this poor sink's life, because you're going to break it with your death glare." Grif patted Sam on the back and he lifted his hands slowly off the counter.

"I'll make cookies," Grif said, his voice pitching up in what was supposed to be an inviting way. Sam sighed, crossing his arms loosely because where was he supposed to put his hands in that situation?

He started talking because no one else was in the kitchen and he wanted cookies more than he wanted to bottle up his feelings. "Sarge and I... Eloped?" He tilted his head, unsure if that was the word he wanted to use. Grif choked on air. "Oh, you did?" he asked nervously. Shit. Definitely not the right word. Sam backtracked quickly, hoping to save himself at least a bit of embarrassment.

"No, we just went swimming... stop looking at me like that." Sam straightened his back and gave Grif a look that had him quickly averting his gaze. "It was a stupid idea, and now he won't talk to me. Which is unsettling, because he _always_  wants to talk. That man never runs out of interesting things to say." Sam shook his head fondly.

Grif poured a handful of chocolate chips into his hand and started eating them, turning away from his cookie batter to give Sam his full attention. There was some flour stuck in his hair. "So... What could have possibly happened to make him avoid you? Did you hurt him? Did you talk shit about Lopez? Did you..." Grif trailed off, deep in thought.

After what seemed like an eternity, Grif looked up again, the handful of chocolate chips gone. "You didn't kiss him, did you?" he asked. Sam froze. "No?" he said, his traitorous voice pitching up slightly. Grif raised his eyebrows, totally unconvinced and went back to making cookies. "Because he's surprisingly sensitive about that sort of thing," Grif continued.

Sam chewed at his lip anxiously. He opened and closed his mouth twice before realizing that Dexter Grif knew when to keep his mouth shut and he figured it would be best to own up. "We _almost_  kissed," he said- more like blurted out. "But maybe it wasn't what I thought, maybe he just _seemed_  really close and it was a trick of the moonlight and-"

Grif stopped him by gesturing with his spoon from across the kitchen. "I see now." He didn't turn to look at Sam, just nodded knowingly. "Sarge... Doesn't like indecision. If he wants to do something, he commits. And he certainly doesn't like it when  _other_  people don't commit.  He's always yelling at me to make up my mind."

Grif, finished with the cookie batter, started rolling them into little balls and placing them on a baking sheet. "He's probably still shocked that you didn't follow through," Grif said matter-of-factly. "I mean, we were all used to you following orders blindly. Now that you've- no offense- started thinking for yourself, it's been a bit weird."

Sam frowned. Grif was usually more help. Yes, he had given some insight as to why Sarge was avoiding him like the plague, but it was... Confusing. "So you think he's upset because I _didn't_  kiss him?" Sam asked. Grif snorted. "You sound confused. Let me break it down for you."

Grif started scraping the excess cookie batter from the edges of the bowl. "We've all seen the looks you give each other. Sarge, believe it or not, has been merciful towards me ever since you started wearing your hair down." Grif gestured to Sam's long, dark hair spilling over his shoulders. Sam tucked a stray lock behind his ear self-consciously.

"You smile more when you're around him. Like, a lot more," Grif continued. "It's clear you like him." Sam opened his mouth to protest. "But you probably haven't realized it yourself." Sam scoffed. "I've been in love before. I know how it feels," he said. Grif winced. "I don't think Felix the Rat Bitch™ counts," he answered.

Sam shook his head. He sighed heavily and pushed his hair back. "No, not Felix. That- whatever that was... It wasn't love. But I know what is." Grif shrugged, not wanting to argue. "So tell me..." He looked over at Sam, his eyes lingering for a moment in his direction, "What's different. What do you like about Sarge, and why is it different than love?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably. He thought for a moment, watching the oven timer count down. _8:07, 8:06, 8:05, 8:04, 8:03._ "His eyes are blue like ice, but there's warmth in them. He'll listen for hours without saying a word and he never complains. He's a born leader, he cares... So much, even if he shows it by shouting at you all daily. I'm convinced he'd do anything for his team." Sam drew a wavering breath and stared at the timer again. _7:38, 7:37, 7:36, 7:35, 7:34._

"He has the prettiest smile I've ever seen and his laugh makes everything else disappear." Grif nodded slowly and glanced back up at Sam. Except he wasn't looking at Sam, he was looking... Behind him? Sam turned around quickly and his breath caught in his throat.

"I could say the same about your laugh, Samuel," Sarge said, wearing a bittersweet smile. Grif quietly excused himself and bolted out of the kitchen. Sarge walked closer until he was just on the other side of the counter. "How long were you there?" Sam said finally, a hint of resignation in his voice. Sarge shrugged. "The whole time," he admitted. 

Sam internally kicked himself. "Oh. Yeah?" he said weakly. Sarge rested his forearms on the counter and gave Sam a meaningful look. "I'm not mad at you," he explained. "I just have trouble with feelings." Sam raised his eyebrows. Oh. That certainly explained why he went to Donut, the resident emotional expert.

"You've liked people before, right? You know how it goes. Sometimes they shoot you down, and you feel terrible for a while. But you get over it, and you try again." Sarge sighed, absently tapping his fingers on the countertop.

_3:42, 3:41, 3:40, 3:39, 3:38._

"And then there's that person who you don't get over. That person who you can't imagine your life without, even if they've only been around for a while. The person who occupies your thoughts _every second of the day_. That person who would be _perfect_  if only they felt the same." Sarge tried to laugh, tried to lighten the mood a bit.

"And then you realize you don't know what you're doing and you need some time to think. Maybe you go see an expert, someone who'll just let you talk and talk. Maybe you pick up some of their qualities and start to ramble on. Maybe you spend too much time in one room and you lose track of time. Maybe _that_  person thinks you've been avoiding them." Sam winced. Ah shit.

He quickly tried to drag the conversation out of whatever pit it had quickly fallen into. "I'm sorry." No. Nope. Nope, that didn't help. He made it worse. Fuck, better roll with it.

"I'm sorry I made things... weird. It's been years and years since I've been close with someone who's not Felix." Sarge shrugged. "Then it's not your fault. It's his," He said with finality. Sarge seemed just as willing as Sam to gloss over whatever he had been talking about earlier.

Or maybe not.

"You don't have to be sorry. It was all me," Sarge admitted. "Sure, you _were_  the one who suggested night swimming but I was the one who tried to kiss you." Sam choked on air. He caught himself in the middle of a surprised eyebrow raise.

So it hadn't been a trick of the moonlight.

Sam was somehow relieved. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because he could feel better about his vision. Maybe it was just the simple fact that Sarge liked him enough to try and kiss him. To be liked by someone for _real_  was rare.

_0:15, 0:14, 0:13, 0:12, 0:11._

Sarge was still standing across from him, eyes widened with some sort of expectancy, fingers still tapping the counter but slower now. He raised his eyebrows a fraction of an inch. Sam met his gaze for a moment. His ice blue gaze, sharp and intelligent and they were _so_  blue, dulled only slightly from staring through an orange visor for years.

In the shitty fluorescent kitchen lights, Sarge looked like he needed someone to _commit_. And it was going to be him or Sam.

It had been almost a year since he had kissed someone. But, Felix the Rat Bitch™ didn't count, so it was probably more like fifteen years. He was severely self-conscious about it. What if he was horrible? Felix wasn't exactly the kind of person who would have pointed something like that out.

He was over thinking it. _0:03_. He just needed to lean over the counter... _0:02_... and kiss him. _0:01_ That simple. _0:00_. And then the timer went off and Sam heard Sarge curse under his breath and Grif came careening into the kitchen all in the same second.

The cookies turned out perfect. Gooey in the center, crispy on the outside with just the perfect amount of sudden realization and awkwardness to make it utterly unbearable when Sarge caught his gaze. He gave a feeble shrug and took a cookie off the baking sheet as he left the room.

Lopez found Sarge sitting on the Red Base porch, deep in thought and a baking sheet half-full of cookies on his lap. He was staring at the mountains across the lake, turned orange and pink from the late afternoon starlight.

Lopez knew it was futile, because Sarge was stupid and refused to learn Spanish. _< "You and Sam are idiots,">_ He said. Sarge grunted in agreement. "I know. I should stop beating around the bush," he said. Lopez was more than a little surprised by his coincidentally appropriate response.

 _< "Yes. Just tell him you like him because I'm getting sick of your bullshit,">_ Lopez continued. Sarge nodded again. "You're right. I should go ask Donut to talk to him." Lopez threw up his hands in exasperation and stormed off, muttering _< "Idiots. Every single one of you.">_

* * *

 

Donut was upset there were no cookies left for him. He was even more upset that Sarge and Sam were fifty feet apart from each other and not talking. Sam was tapping his fingers on the kitchen table and looking like he'd just seen a ghost and Sarge was eating all the cookies by himself.

Donut figured he'd talk to Sam first, because he had already spent several days with Sarge and honestly, he needed a break from that. "Hey Sam?" he asked quietly. Sam looked up from the table and sighed. "Yes, Donut?" he said. He sounded tired.

"How'd things go... With Sarge?" Donut asked. He sat down at the table next to Sam and kept a respectable distance. "Not well," Sam replied. "I'm being stupid," he admitted. Donut would have loved to assure him that no, he wasn't being stupid but he had recently been trying to be more honest.

"You two are being a bit silly, yeah," Donut. said. "What is it you're so afraid of?" he asked. Sam shrugged. "Everything," he mumbled as he put his head in his hands. "I don't know how... Do do this," he admitted. Donut gave him a warm smile and rested his hand on Sam's shoulder. "But you'll figure it out," he said.

Sam nodded. "Yeah." He would figure it out. He had to.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all, I know. I'm horrible.
> 
> -
> 
> Don't forget to leave a comment, no matter how long or short. They mean the world to me. ❤❤❤


End file.
